


Doppelgänger

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John just can't <i>not</i> see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doppelgänger

**Author's Note:**

> JWP #16: **Viewer's Choice:** Use one of the following pictures as the inspiration for today's entry (or if you're really brave, use both!) For this one, I used the picture of the [Tom Ford suit](http://wpc.4d27.edgecastcdn.net/004D27/2013/MoviePremiere/ArmieHammerTomFordTheLoneRanger/Armie+Hammer+The+Lone+Ranger+Tom+Ford+2.jpg).
> 
>   
>  **Warnings** : *sniffs* Ah, the smell of crack in the evening! **And absolutely no beta.** This was written in a complete rush. You have been warned.  
>   
> 

  
  
  
Sherlock stopped in the middle of his sentence and glared at John. "Why are you staring at me?"  
  
John blinked and looked away. His cheeks took on a reddish tint, all the more visible against the stark black of his waitstaff uniform. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I uh…I just can't get over how much you look like your own evil twin at the moment, that's all." He flapped a hand at Sherlock, vaguely indicating something about his appearance.  
  
Lestrade let out a huff. "You, too? Thank God. I thought I was the only one."  
  
John shook his head vigorously. "I can't stop seeing it."  
  
Sherlock scowled. "I'm not supposed to look _evil_. I'm supposed to look like a fop. Like a very posh, very fashion-conscious, very shallow idiot who actually cares a great deal about what people think about my appearance and very little else."  
  
Lestrade coughed into the sleeve of his black waiter's jacket. "Like you don't care about your appearance on any given day," he muttered _sotto voce_.  
  
"You do look the part, right down to the pocket square that compliments your paisley tie," John assured Sherlock before he could respond to Greg's statement – assuming he'd overheard it, which given his hearing was a fairly safe bet. "It's just the whiskers, I suppose. The evil twin always has facial hair when the good twin doesn't."  
  
"This is more cultural rubbish you've picked up from the telly and those ridiculous films you like to watch, isn't it?" Sherlock scoffed and ran one hand down the heather-purple fabric of his very expensive, very tight, very impossible-to-miss suit. "We know our suspect has a fetish for metro-sexual-appearing wealthy males with meticulous facial hair. And since presumably he hasn't met the actual me, he can't possibly have any foolish preconceptions about me being the 'evil twin,' so stop worrying about it."  
  
"Wasn't worrying, precisely. It's just…distracting."  
  
"Stop being distracted, and start paying attention." Sherlock advised drily. "Guests will start arriving in half an hour, and I want to be sure you understand before…"  
  
"Ah, there you are." Mycroft sauntered into the room in a subtly shining black suit thinly herringboned with silver that was just as slim-cut and fashionable as Sherlock's. He made a slight adjustment to the knot of his silk polka-dotted tie before smoothing one finger over his pencil-thin, precise, unmistakably ginger moustache. The pointed tips twitched as he gave them all a bland smile. "Everything ready?"  
  
"Hm." Sherlock's voice dropped an octave as he considered his brother. "I'd say I see your point about the facial hair, except it doesn't really change a thing about him." He gave a patently false sigh and deliberately placed one hand on his hip. "Mycroft. I believe everyone is ready as they're likely to be."  
  
"Good. Then Inspector Lestrade, Doctor Watson, I suggest you take your places and be ready to start carrying hors d'oeuvres. Sherlock, if I might have a word…"  
  
The two brothers sauntered off, and after a few seconds, John and Greg managed to stop staring at them long enough to exchange a look of complete agreement.   
  
"Polka dots and a pencil moustache," Greg muttered. "Jesus Christ."  
  
As one, they turned and walked towards the prep area.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 16, 2013


End file.
